The Next Flight
by AnaSpain
Summary: This is a story continuing before the epilogue of the book. Conor has to deal with his past and learn to live in the present.This is the story of the struggle between Conor Broekhart and Conor Finn.How his family and Isabella fit in his new life.T for now
1. After the storm

Disclaimer: I'm not Irish and haven't created the Saltees or their characters. No copyright infringement intended.

Chapter 1: After the storm

Conor woke up with a start: ¿where was he? This wasn't his bed at the tower or even the cot back at Little Saltee. It all came back to him. He was home, home with his family, with the Princess that's not right she was the Queen now.

He remembered his shock at hearing her new title, although it had been almost a year since the coronation to him Isabella was still the Princess that constantly threatened to execute him. Many things had changed and he guessed he had only seen a tiny part of them.

He was still in his dirty leather clothing for last night's flight and it was sticky with sweat, sea salt and blood, his hair was mated on his forehead and his face still greasy. He couldn't believe his mom had let him go to sleep like that, it was a strange feeling having a mom again, he hadn't had that feeling in over three years and he couldn't really say if he liked it or not…. But then again if he thought about it, it wasn't that surprising, last night had been full of things to do and long repressed feelings to express.

After Declan had reassured the people of the Saltees that their Queen was safe and sound they'd had to deal with Bonvilain's henchmen. Captain Broekhart, Mariscal now, had called a few of his trusted sharpshooters to dispose of the scum. Conor had been curious about their destination and he now cursed himself for saying anything. The answer had been obvious, to the detention cells and straight to Little Saltee first thing in the morning, with Conor's memories he couldn't let that happen, the situation in the smaller of the islands had to be taken care of before sending more prisoner's in, besides he suspected Bonvilain's influence was bigger than any of them thought. He shouldn't have asked, shouldn't have cared , because his knowledge only brought an onslaught of questions from his parents and the Queen, more questions than he cared to answer at the moment. He had cut them off firmly claiming more urgent matters but he knew they wouldn't let it go for long.

Shortly after the soldier's had been taken care of and after answering what felt like hundreds of questions with vague answers about what he had been doing, "Where were you? At first he had me controlled" "At first? Yeah, I escaped a while ago" that kind of answer that only spurred their curiosity. His mom who had to the moment been relatively quiet blurted out in a excited voice: " You flew!"

Thankfully it meant a change of topic, to one he was much more comfortable with, his designs and his mom ever the scientist provided him with great conversation and new points of view about the flaws of the aircraft. At some point Isabella had asked with a small voice about the name of the plane, to what Conor had proudly answered its name was _Le Brosse. _

Conor's memories from the night of the kings murder brought a lot of joy mixed with tears and through it all Catherine Broekhart's face held a little smile that seemed to say "I told you so" to her husband. But in the end both of them were glad the man they had considered a friend wasn't part of the plot. When they had found the diary their doubts had grown but they had no way to make sure Victor hadn't been in league with the traitor.

The happy news led to remembering their lost ones, but this time without the grief of Conor's death and Victor's treason, they remembered through the happy memories they had of them, and Conor felt for one second that Conor Finn was leaving him, he was almost back to being Conor Broekhart of Great Saltee, but a stray look around the room made sure he remembered the past three years and all he had gone through all the obstacles he had conquered by being Mr Finn, of the Battering Rams.

Halfway through his father's retelling of the "heroic deeds" that had earned him the title of Sir, he lost interest, that night's flight and the fight afterwards had tough on his muscles, his overused mind, not to mention how emotionally challenging had been the reunion with his loved ones. In short he was exhausted, so when he lost interest his body started to numb and his mind to shut down. Year spent in the prison wouldn't let him loose awareness of his surroundings completely but his state was clear enough that his mom picked on it and decided to cut short the story.

Catherine had also picked up a lot more from her son, the wide shoulder's and the beard notwithstanding, her son had changed, his eyes were guarded as were his movements, he had been able to sway their questions without answering and she wanted the answers she wanted to know where her son had been and why he hadn't returned earlier if he had been able to. Her husband was just glad his son was back , glad he hadn't been killed for what he considered his incompetence but also wracked with guilt about not having recognised him in that cell, about the heartache that could have saved them.

Isabella, although she had realised the same things that Catherine had she had focused on the solid fact that her childhood companion, her saviour was backed and she was also very appreciative of the physical changes in him, she wouldn't let herself dwell n other things that might have changed also or in Bonvilain's treason and its consequences that would come in the morning, right now she just wanted to relish on Conor's return.

When all of the realized just how tired they really were a few decisions were taken, the Broekhart's needed to return home to Sean but Conor would stay in the castle till there was a time the next day to explain the people the events that had transpired the night before. So Isabella had given him a room in the guest wing and they had snuck him quietly in for everyone knows the Castle staff babbled around in the city.

After a brief hesitation the queen had pecked him goodnight on the cheek, he remembered with a fond smile, and she had left him there, the moment he fell on his squishy and soft bedding he was asleep. That explained his state of unkempt.

He decided he had to ,at least wash the plane grease off of his face, there was ajar filled of water and a basin in one of the corners of the room but he didn't want to get his clothes wet, it as the only thing he had in Great Saltee so he pulled his jacket and shirt off and started scrubbing. As he was finishing the doorknob started to move and he jumped to behind the door, opposite from the mirror he was just using, he'll be able to see who was coming in before they saw him and he was close enough to act if needed.

It was the princess on the other side of the door, she had awoken extraordinarily early so as to leave clean clothes for Conor before he or any of her servants woke up, it was barely dawn. She had had trouble finding the clothes, Victor had been too short and Declan was too lean, so he had gotten them from a trunk of clothes her father had ordered before his death and that nobody had ever worn.

She was expecting a stealthy in and out movement so it's understandable she shrieked when she saw a figure on the mirror. Conor was fast to close her mouth with his hand before she alerted the whole guard. She kicked him and struggled till he came forward with her so she could clearly see his reflection in the mirror.

She then calmed down enough to be released, and of course was angry at Conor for scaring her.

-"What are you doing waiting behind a door like criminal!"- yelled Isabella but became distracted when she realized Conor wasn't wearing a shirt, and came face to face with the new muscles the boy had.

Conor was hurt by that comparison, he had been call criminal too many times in the last three years to have Isabella do the same, but he had always been able to hide the hurt and resentment well and this time was no different. Isabella was staring at him and probably at some of the new scars he had gotten both at the prison and later working on his planes. He had to hide the tattoo of the Rams and the S that forever marked him as an inmate of Little Saltee from her and fast, that wouldn't be a pretty explanation. So he did the only thing he could do and turned that half of his body away from the princess, the movement also snapped Isabella out of it.

- !I should have you hung for scaring your Queen!" – exclaimed Isabella reverting to old patterns.

- "What does Her Majesty want? "– asked Conor not eager to remember the time before his life became a living hell and anxious to have Isabella out of the room. The Queen was hurt but decided not to show it, it was understandable Conor had had a rough time, that much she could tell. That didn't stop her from being short to him

-"Nothing, I just wanted to bring you new clothes to replace your dirty ones but I guess you like being filthy."

-"Oh! Thanks…" - said Conor with a sheepish smile. He appreciated the gesture but he really needed her gone.- "Anything else?"

- "Just don't go wandering around too much, the official announcement is at noon, I'll send somebody to bring you breakfast in the meantime." – Isabella was starting to get angry at him, she was his friend, even something else and deserved his respect.

- "Could you also arrange someway of me taking a bath before that?"– asked Conor aware that his attitude hadn't been the best to ask for favours. But Isabella with a single glance to the state of his body and clothes was glad to comply and then left the room before her mixed feelings got in the way.

She was hurt by Conor's curtness but she was also amazed at his new looks, she had just turned eighteen after all and she was glad to have her childhood crush home but she wasn't sure how much of her crush was left, how much had been replaced by an angry stranger. Not for the first time she wished her dad was here to tell her what to do.

When she got back to her room she made arrangements for Conor and for the official announcement, the people needed to hear the truth rumours were already circulating all around Great Saltee and she didn't want there to be any misunderstandings. She pulled herself together and headed to her studio to make a speech that would be remembered in years to come.

The maid Isabella had sent to escort Conor to the baths had exploded into tears the moment Conor had appeared in the other side of the door wearing his old clothes as he guessed it was better not dirtying the new ones, the maid had served Isabella since she was born and had seen the two kids grow together, she had also been witness to the devastating heartbreak her Queen suffered after losing her dad and the young man in front of her, the maid had also cried for days after that and seeing Conor alive again was a blessing.

Of course Conor being a teenage boy, had no idea what to do with the crying mess in front of him . He needn't have worried, the maid still crying ushered him quickly to the bathroom and informed him his breakfast would be served when he got back to his room..

Conor would be lying if he said the relaxing castle bath wasn't good for him. It was so much better than the one at the tower, he had wanted to design a system that heated water uniformly but he had decided to leave it for when he was in America.

America… He wasn't going anywhere anymore his family had welcomed him back with open arms and she couldn't leave the m now but he still owed Linus the week at the Savoy, he also realised he had to tell Linus he was okay, to do that he had to figure out a way to escape from the castle undetected or ask for permission but he wasn't sure how much he could tell. The bath washed away those worries too, he'd deal with them when it was necessary. Laying there relaxed, his mind drifted to the princess, he had once fancied himself in love with her, and he had to admit she was more beautiful now than ever but he hadn't let himself think about her in so long that he didn't know how to act around her anymore. He spent the rest of the bath fantasizing about the life they could have had.

The water turned cold and he got up and changed into the clothes Isabella had gotten for him. The clothes were obviously expensive if you looked at the quality of the stitches but the fabrics weren't too luxurious, no silk or velvet. He put on the collared shirt and the riding jacket. He had to admit he looked good although he looked more like a pampered kid than the tough man he had been forced to become. His hair and beard were still in their wild state so the maid tutted at him when she returned and then proceeded to cut his hair shorter and trim his beard when she finished it was looking a lot more respectable than the multicoloured ragged thing it had been, there were still three colours but they were more evenly spaced and it was less noticeable. Thee maid finally cleared him for public appearance and left him alone in his room.

As he had done ever since escaping Little Saltee he opened the window and let the sunrays warm him. He had spent hours on the roof of the tower, just enjoying their warmth. He wished he had his design journal with him, he wanted to write down some of the ideas his mother had had the night before but that as well as Linus and the rest of his clothing was back at the tower. So he was content to just stay there and leave his mind free. He remembered his mentor Victor Vigny and was glad that his name would finally be cleaned after being accused of the worst crime he could have possibly thought of: murdering his friend.

He didn't know how much time had passed but the sun had moved to its highest point by the time someone knocked at the door.

It was Declan Broekhart who had ached to go back to Conor earlier but Sean had gotten a bad cold and Isabella had requested his assistance in getting everything ready for the pronouncement as well as sending spies to Ireland to unearth Bonvilain's contacts. It was only when someone had to go get Conor for the announcement that he was allowed to leave his duties for a while.

- "Dad"

- "Son, it's time".

- "Where's Isabella?"

- "She's already there, she'll start the speech and then tell the people about my new title explain the reason and then you come in, the hero."

- "Oh…" - Truthfully Conor didn't feel like a hero, nothing like he had felt when he was nine, he didn't even know what to make of his father, now prematurely grey-haired at the temples and much more emotional than he remembered. But he didn't complain about the adjective, it was Isabella's kingdom she could present him however she wanted. –"Where's mom?"

- "She stayed behind taking care of baby Sean, your brother's feeling a little under the weather. Don't worry she'll be there when your name is called."

That was weird his parents went everywhere together unless he was working. Many things had changed including the presence of his little … brother. He didn't feel like he had a brother but he supposed he could get used to it but the fact that his mom hadn't gone to see him after three years made him sad, he had always had the greatest conversations with her and she was always there when he had doubts and right now he had plenty.

Both Catherine and Isabella were too busy to talk to him and Declan had only arrived last minute, he didn't' like the situation and he was starting to miss the simplicity of his tower and Linus or even the camaraderie with Otto Malarkey. Being Conor Finn was much easier to deal with.


	2. In the public's eye

Disclaimer: I own nothing

Chapter 2 : In the public's eye

Isabella, dressed in some of her finest was peeking through a hidden window onto the Great Hall of the castle, news of the announcement had moved like wildfire and nearly everybody that had some weight in the society of the Saltees was there, from the nobles to the merchants to the haggard looking housewives. Everyone wanted to know what had happened the night before. The town had been up since the Gaitlings fired and the rumour mill ad already managed to fabricate many different versions the most worrying of which was an open war against France.

The Queen knew she had to quench those fears but she had to explain everything else also while managing not to look too bad for not realizing what was in front of her all this time. The good news is that she also got to proclaim Conor's return for the islands had mourned the loss of the child that had been named _Sir._

With that thought Isabella rearranged her features in a show of regal solemnity and gave the order to start with the proceedings. She had timed everything so that the public had just enough to understand what she was saying but not dwell on it, those would follow in the following days and she expected next week's audience to be full of people demanding deeper explanations but for now she needed her people to rally up behind her if she had any hope of destroying Bonvilain's influence.

Once she was standing right in front of the assembly she started the speech with the Court's formal greeting and then launched into her speech:

- "Citizens of the Saltee Islands, as you no doubt are aware we suffered an attack yesterday evening, but do not fear. The flying artefact that our magnificent guard shot down was not a foe but a friend. Rest assured he was expecting no less from our defences and suffered no harm.

Last night real attack was not so visible but much more grievous for the country. Last night I was scheduled for a dinner in Lord Bonvilain's chamber to remember the life of Conor Broekhart, I was going to question the Marshall about some documents that suggested his involvement in illegal activity. I found out later the dinner was just an excuse to murder me discreetly and at the same time set a trap for the only man that knew of vile Bonvilain's plan.

The document I'm talking about is my own father's journal, may his soul rest in peace and in it he tells us of a long list of highly illegal practices Bonvilain partook in. he wrote about spies in friendly countries as well as his thirst for power. It appears that it was his ultimate downfall.

My contacts, and my father's, report that he got bolder and bolder every year that passed. It's in this context that is my duty to right a wrong done by this country to a dear friend of it, Victor Vigny, my mentor and my father's confidante did not kill King Charlie , I repeat he did not kill him he was framed for his murder and we have disgraced his memory by believing something many knew in our hearts could not be true."

-"Damn straight!" – a voice near the back shouted. Isabella would have sworn it was Catherine's voice and she wouldn't have been too far from the truth.

- "Yes, yes many will agree with that sentiment. Now onto much happier topics it is my honour and my tremendous pleasure to present you with the new Marshall of the islands: Declan Broekhart!"

The hole guard erupted in cheers while Marshall Broekhart strode up to Isabella. The rest of the hall applauded and hooted enthusiastically. And in that moment more than ever the Queen and everyone who was looking found the answer to how much Bonvilain had hurt her people, so wiling to accept a man like Declan always trustworthy although a broken man in the last years. The fact that they were glad the title was inherited by a man that had been absent for most of the last three years spoke volumes.

- "Marshall Broekhart has been promoted in a time of many changes we have to cleanse the kingdom of the traitor's evil. All soldiers will be submitted to evaluation and Little Saltee's prison guards will be under sever scrutiny, my duty as well as the Marshall is to ensure the country can go back as peacefully as possible to the security rates we had three years ago when my father was king. It is a shame I haven't done enough to prevent this situation my only excuse is that I was blinded by grief, youth and the traitors sly ways of hiding the truth from me. It is my intention to repair the damage done and continue forward to science and technology development, to a safer better way of mining diamonds and our own diamond market to stop our dependence in foreign markets.

There is still one last announcement, probably the most important of all and certainly the happiest. The man that flew the aircraft that defied our defences to save me and my country, the man that risked his life to come to my rescue and clean Victor Vigny's memory is a man we long believed dead. He wasn't he was held by Bonvilain until he was able to escape and stop the attempt on my lfe. It's a man that once jumped off of a tower and broke his leg in the process to do the same thing: save the Princess life. Please rise to welcome back home Airman: _Sir _Conor Broekhart."

The crowd who had been enthralled by Isabella's tale exploded when Conor braved the entrance, not one of them could fully understand what had happened. Llittle did they know the only ones who knew were Airman himself and a blind musician by the name of Linus Wynter . Even without the knowledge they were glad to have a hero in such dark times and many of them had known the boy s the mischievous kid who got the princess knees dirty all the time and anyone who knew the Broekharts was glad for the joy of the family. Conor bit back his desire to run away from the loud noise and marched right by his father with his jaw set and a sure gait. Many noticed the wide shoulders and strong jaw line, the beard made him look more mysterious and more than a couple ladies in the room were adding up his age and wondering of the possibilities. Catherine deep in the crowd didn't miss the murmuring and she smiled as she pondered just how good of a catch her son was. She had to bit back a giggle picturing her son's face if she broached the topic. But her son had changed maybe the new Conor would be delighted, she looked towards the Queen and prayed that wasn't the case. She had of course known all about the crush they'd had back in the day, and she a was a first hand witness of the devastation in the girl when loosing both her father and her oldest friend. The queen deserved a little happiness and she fervently hoped Conor wouldn't break her heart.

Isabella was comfortable with how the speech had gone there was just a little thing left unsaid:

- "Bonvilain's roots reach far and deep. Pulling them out… it won't be easy but the happy news should be celebrated so there will be a formal dinner and ball in honour of_ Sir_ Broekhart a week from now."

Everyone in the Hall rejoiced at the opportunity of a last fun gathering before the repercussions of the treason really hit. The crowd recognised the dismissal and left chattering excitedly between them.

Conor was angry, he didn't want a ball in his honour. He didn't like being so exposed, Little Saltee had made him wary of open spaces and crowds, too many possible angles for an attack. In addition he didn't like the idea of staying in the castle for that long, he really wanted to get back to his designs and correct the flaws in it.

When the hall had emptied Isabella sat down and relaxed in her seat, Declan had gone to his wife to help her bring the baby so it was the perfect chance to speak privately with him. She called him but he seemed to be somewhere else. She got up and waved a hand in front of his face. She hadn't been expecting the response: Conor stepped away from her and snapped his eyes to her face, only when she met his gaze did he relax.

He wasn't used to being caught unawares and he didn't like it one bit. Isabella put a hand on his shoulder and asked if he was alright, he answered with a curt "fine". She pouted at his tone and made puppy-dog eyes at him. He let out a frustrated sigh, she knew he couldn't resist that face. So he told her what was in his mind and was surprised by the flash of hurt in her eyes before she put on her game face and turned to welcome the happy parents.

They didn't know how Conor was going to react at seeing his little brother so they approached hesitantly. When they arrived and introduced the brothers Sean was curious as to who was the bearded man, Conor didn't know what to say and he embraced the kid at his mother's suggestions.

Suddenly Sean exploded into giggles which startled Conor. When he looked at the toddler he told them that the beard tickled so Conor rubbed it purposefully against his brother's cheek making everyone smile. When Sean started squirming hard he let him go to their mum. He got more information on the kid than he ever would have wanted and what really irked him were the number of unnecessary apologies they were giving him. He didn't care that they had had another song he was happy that they were happy and although there might be a little resentment lingering he preferred not to analyse it to closely. He didn't want his parents to feel guilty about having another son, they should not be apologising for that. He felt his temper start to rise so he excused himself while the ladies were cooing at something the baby had done and his father watched with a content smile. He wasn't really needed anyway.

His father found him minutes later staring at the outline of the smaller island and gently forced him back inside. He thought about saying something but he didn't know how to fix the three years they had lost because he hadn't recognised his own son. So with a quiet: "Come on in there's food waiting" they headed towards the Queen's private dining hall.

The conversation at lunch was uncomfortable as the ladies strained to maintain a steady flow of cheerful news while both parent and son wallowed. Conor wouldn't even talk about his machines he dismissed Isabella's interest with a casual: "It still needs work".

They were finishing eating when he wondered what the plans for the afternoon were. He just wanted to be alone for a while, he wasn't used to the chatter and while he missed them deeply he had once left that part behind and squashed it at best as he could but it was coming back and he was losing control, Conor Finn was giving way to a hurting confused teenager and he didn't like feeling that young so he claimed exhaustion and retreated quickly to his room.

That left the rest to exchange worried glances. It wasn't long at all before they were sharing their observations, they wanted to help him as it was obvious there was something wrong with him. Catherine was specially worried about the jumpy behaviour and her guesses to the reasons weren't too far off the truth again. Isabella worried about Conor's desire to leave but they agreed he wouldn't leave so early. Declan just listened to it all and it added to his burden. Catherine couldn't stand her husbands sombre mood and resolved to talk to him when they were alone.

They all had their duties to attend, and the Broekharts went to invite Conor for dinner at home, they had all agreed Conor would be sleeping in the Castle for the time being, for the queen's sake. Once more when they opened the room Conor was in full alert, facing the door in a defensive stance. He didn't feel safe in his new surroundings, even though they weren't that new but the last memories of the place were burnt into his mind just as the S was burnt into his skin. He had managed to hide it today thanks to the too long sleeves of the jacket but it was fairly noticeable and he would have to explain everything sooner or later, much later.

His parents pretended not to notice and bid him farewell, Isabella stayed behind and politely inquired if he needed anything. He was about to answer in the negative but a sudden thought crossed his head: Where was the glider? She promised to send someone to find it. It turned out they couldn't fold it back in and get it through the spiral staircase coming down from the traitor's tower so he had to go get him himself and having to answer the annoying questions of the service boy that had been sent to fetch him. Unlike Uncle this kid wasn't really interested in the machine he was interested in the man, the myth, the man had flown , he was Airman and it was such a great story to tell his pals that he kept grilling Conor till they reached the tower.

Conor expertly folded the wings in and strapped it to his back he then waved the kid of and sped to his room to fix the small broken beam from his fall onto Bonvilain. He finally had something to do with his hand and he was finished way before he had to head down for dinner. So he decided to wander around for a while.

Big mistake, at every corner there were people who wanted to talk to him, some of them he remembered fondly and was glad to see again like a couple of his father's comrades or the cooks of the castle but there was a lot of people he hadn't really known or liked back when he was fourteen. Like the two other teenaged girls around his age near the Castle, two spoiled brats, daughters to the two most important noble families in the Saltees besides the Trudeaus and the Bonvilain's. One, the Mouards had control of the naval industry while the other, the Gawaines had at least a thousand heads of cattle in Irish land and provided the Saltees with meat and cereal taking full advantage of their unique dual nationality. The daughters in question had always been insufferable, loud and sugary but also false. Conor had steered clear of the m as much as he could but Isabella had had to entertain them constantly and complained bitterly afterwards. He got to play with swords or explore and she had to sit primly and act ladylike while the other two giggled constantly without apparent reason. The last year before his disappearance he had noticed they suddenly went very quiet when he was around and blushed. But that was all gone now.

He had just turned into his parents street when they saw him and made a beeline towards him. He didn't really know what was going on but he suddenly was smothered in chiffon and perfume. They kissed his cheeks and clung to his arms. When he tried to shrug them off they started adoringly telling him just how much they had missed him. The one in his right kept breathing weirdly while the one in his left seemed to have something in her eyes she was blinking away. He felt squished and he was not in the mood to appreciate the beautiful if overdone girls at his sides he just wanted to get to his parents without being interrupted. He said goodbye and ducked quickly when they wanted to kiss his cheeks, they were disappointed but tried not to show him with a cheery " We'll see you later" that to Conor sounded more like a threat than anything else. He sprinted to home, it was weird calling it home, it hadn't been for three years and he hadn't been expecting to come back.

Isabella arrived not much later and they ate dinner in better moods than lunch, the familiar surroundings and the new tasks helped Declan talk and Conor didn't mind to offer to their conversation a long as it didn't pry into his life.

As dinner progressed he could see the other's faces morphing into determination. Casually, when they finished eating, his mum started softly.

-" Dear I don't think it's a good idea for you to go back to shore just yet"

All the frustrations of the day came back to Conor in a whoosh.

- "What do you mean not go back to shore?" – he demanded of his mother and then he looked indignantly at Isabella "When did you tell them? Were you talking about me behind my back?"

- "Conor, first don't be so rude, and second we're just worried about you"

- "Worried? I did just fine for myself the last three years and will continue to do so. No this feels more like you're curious but don't want to ask me to my face?"

- "Would you answer if we asked?" asked Isabella quietly

- "Right now. I sure as hell won't!"

- "Language, Conor"- Catherine didn't like people cursing and her son was way out of line.

- " Language?, you're worried about language? I'd like to know why I can't go"

- "Son, your mother deserves your respect, apologize" – Declan had reacted only when he was outright rude to his mum.

-" Sorry if I don't care much about my language right now but I'd like to know why?"

- "We just feel it would be better if you rested first and stayed protected while we round up Bonvilain's followers, they might want to take revenge"

- "Let them come, I need to get back to Linus and my designs"

- "Why are you so eager to leave? Don't you like being back?" Now Isabella was close to tears and Conor was getting frustrated but the last thing he needed was to make her cry.

-"It's not that, I have things to do, I can't just sit idly here"

-" You can design here and send a messenger to your friend, invite him here" His mum, trying to make peace

-"What about the materials for the designs? Besides I won't be able to concentrate here, everyone wants to talk to me, it took me two hours to get home. And Linus is blind you can't just change his surroundings in a whim he gets disoriented"

- "On a whim! So now it's a whim to want you close after three years, after you being dead" Conor had managed to stop the tears, she was now more angry than hurt."How can you be so selfish!"

Conor went deathly still and slowly ground out:

-"Are you really calling me selfish? After I came back, right into a trap, knowingly because Bonvilain had threatened your lifes? Look I had it all figured out, I was going to concentrate on my machines, I had enough money for that."

- "What do you mean you had it all figured out?" Realization downed. "Wait, you had no intention of coming back did you?"

-"Well no. I thought you had all bought the lie. Dad had vowed to kill me. Besides you were happy, you had Sean."

- "You mean to tell me you were here and didn't try to contact us?" This was his mum, who was horrified at the news.

- " Yes, it's not like I could just go up to the castle or to here and ask to see you. I didn't know who might be looking for me and they wouldn't have let me in without knowing who I was"

- "You could have told them!"

- "They would have laughed in my face, I don't even look like I did back then. But you're changing topics, I'm more useful at the tower than I am here."

-"Who cares about usefulness? What's important is that you're here and you have to stay"

- "I don't want to stay. Look the tower isn't that far and frankly there's just too many people here"

- "No Conor. You're not leaving we need you here"

- "For what? I design planes" _and escape from prisons and smuggle diamonds_ he added to himself.

- "We just do, we need to come to terms with the fact that you're alive"

- " I am, you know that , you can come visit" And he wrote down how to get there. " I won't stay here and be exhibited"

- "What are you talking about"

-"Your little dance? Anyway I'm going back to the tower and see if I can tweak the aircraft a little and then make a run that actually counts for the Royal Academy"

- "No you won't. As your queen I forbid you from leaving the island of Great Saltee" Isabella had reached her breaking point, she couldn't understand why Conor was being so stubborn and she really needed him close why couldn't he see that. So she pulled the authority card. It was not such a good idea.

Isabella's words had reminded him a little too much of Bonvilain's arrogance and Billtoy's authority over him. He had vowed he would never again be played like a puppet. When he finally answered, he was livid and his tone was frosty. His eyes hardened in bitter anger. And out came the cutting sarcasm learnt from the years in a prison where most guards didn't recognise it for what it was.

- "Or what? Will you hung me? Don't worry Her Majesty gets what Her Majesty wants" and he ended with a bow " Now I believe the Queen wanted me in the castle so I'll leave right away" He got up and with a quick goodnight to his parents he returned."

His parents convinced Isabella not to follow, her pride was wounded as was his and their stubbornness would only result in more fights. It was with a heavy heart that she returned to her room that night. Somehow she wasn't surprised when a large shadow covered the slight light coming from her bedroom window, the shadow came from right above it, passed through and then she could see the wings getting shorter and shorter with the distance. He had chosen to jump from the same tower that he had once jumped from strapped to a flag. He now had a much more sophisticated glider and the tower was different, it had been remodelled after the fire but Isabella couldn't help but notice that this time he flew alone.

**AN: Thanks to all my readers specially to ReillyScarecrowRocks who took the time to leave some feedback. I'm amazed people are actually reading this story I frankly thought this category would be much less read.**

**I'm planning to update every week I have the next chapter written and the next is almost done but I need to proofread them. **

**If you find any mistakes please let me know, English is not my main language.  
**


	3. Misguided Guilt

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. European but still not Irish**

**Sorry for the delay I had computer trouble. Hope you like the chapter!**

Chapter 3: Misplaced guilt

Conor woke up in his usual spot, up on the roof, that morning when the sun rose up in the sky. He hadn't bothered going inside after the flight choosing instead to just crash there, fully clothed and with his glider close.

That's why he was surprised upon entering the tower and finding a tasty breakfast waiting for him. Linus came into the room just then and laughed at his eagerness. When Conor asked how he had known to prepare it Linus simply answered that, for a blind man, his landing on the roof in the middle of the night was akin to the machinegun noise for everyone else.

Of course, Linus had heard all about the hero of the Saltees, news travelled fast, the telegraph had reached the Saltees and now communication was almost instant. So he cursed Conor for not trying to contact him. They had been sick with worry. Him and Uncle, for the kid was still around .

Conor relaxed at the familiar surroundings and a deep sigh escaped him. It was half relief half confusion. Linus looked at the teen and shook his head. He had it coming for a long time. Trying to escape his past had never been a brilliant idea. But he wasn't about to let him wallow so he started to play his music. Not too long after that Conor shook himself out of it and started tweaking the craft's original designs. After a couple of hours of their routine, Uncle appeared, still as dirty and smelly as before, but also still deeply interested in Conor's work. So instead of asking questions to Linus and get music answers he had to answer Uncle's questions. Despite the fact that most of them were very basic and were making him loose time, some of the boy's questions were deeply insightful and reminded him of things he had forgotten.

By the afternoon he was reasonably proud of the new design, on paper, but he only had a motor left so he had to build a few models to test the aerodynamics. Before building a faulty full-scale plane, crash it, and had to wait for more materials.

He took a bit to eat and went straight back to the project. Linus and Uncle kept coming around every once in a while and the kid kept bugging him to let him fly his glider, which he had no intention of ever allowing . And Linus sat by him and told him tales about his life before prison. They were subtle prods to talk about what had transpired because if there was a thing Linus could not resist, it as information, specially court gossip. He was a spy after all.

Emboldened by his success, he continued working on his models for the following days. Uncle had loved the activity and used the failures to brag in front of his friends. Word had gotten around that he was back and the villagers now knew he was Airman but many of them were grateful for the end of Bonvilain's power and chose to show it in discreet ways. A couple pies had appeared one day at his doorstep and when he had gone to buy more fabric for the model's wings the tailor at the store had refused payment.

Conor was grateful for all the things they were trying to help with but what he was mostly grateful about was the solitude they allowed him. There weren't villagers coming up and congratulating him or girls clinging to his arms. Very much unlike the castle in Great Saltee. He was ready to admit he had become a loner after the years spent in prison.

Linus was worried about the boy. He knew how hard it was to adapt to yourself again after keeping a charade a long time, he was not sure anymore where Linus Wynter ended and his various alter egos started. Conor had become Finn and reverting the change was taking its toll, he had buried himself in his designs hoping to escape his internal conflict but every once in a while he would get a wistful on his face and stare off to space for a long moment. Linus could almost see his brain squashing the longing and forcing itself to concentrate on the science.

Four days had passed since he had fled. He was feeling guiltier every day that went by, he could only guess the disappointment his parents must have felt the following morning. He had had trouble realizing that both his parents and Isabella had really missed him, his Finn persona had taken root only after he had convinced himself that they hated him, having been proven wrong had shaken him. On top of that other feelings were starting to grow: he was angry at them for giving up on him, for being so trusting and not looking for his body. He felt angry and betrayed, mostly at his dad for not recognizing him. He was a mess and the only clear thing in his head was that the machine had flown.

It was probably the first manned heavier-than-air machine that had flown a controlled flight although he had by now admitted to himself that he hadn't really controlled the flight, the winds flew towards the sea when he had taken off and kept pushing him the right direction, he had managed to steer enough to make small adjustments in his flight but, now, empty of the desperation that had filled him then, he could acknowledge that any slightly powerful gust of wind would have steered him of his path and into the sea. He had been lucky and reckless that night and his design had been good but his models proved him that the weight wasn't evenly placed and that the screws had rattled all flight long, he counted his lucky stars that the hastily rebuilt machine had kept itself together for as long as it had. Even with the adjustments he and his mom had thought of the machine still leaned heavily whenever he blew softly on his models mimicking lateral winds.

He was at a loss on how to fix the weight problems, every combination of weights he had found caused the plane to veer down or the thin wings to snap. He was not happy with the results.

Late that night Linus found him looking out from one of the windows of the tower. The shape of the Saltees clear against the starry night. The old man chose to ask the question that had been plaguing Conor's mind: Why are you here?

-"What do you mean? Don't you want me here?"

- "You know I appreciate your insight but I was wondering why did you choose this windblown tower over the palace and the queen you could have back in the islands"

-"I don't have the queen" - A blush had risen all the way to the top of his ears at the thought. Linus laughed at his embarrassment.

-"That blush tells me otherwise"- It was a joy seeing the boy peek through the cracks of the persona he had created

- "It's not about Isabella. The palace is just too much"

-"You're probably the only seventeen year old boy that wouldn't bask in the attention. But you're being selfish"

-"I'm being selfish? Isabella organised an affair on my name without asking and my parents kept trying to smother me"

- "They thought you were dead. They just got you back, they are going to be a little over the top"

- "But what about me? I can't just slip back into my routine from three years ago. Too much has changed"

- "Yes, I know. However: Do they?"

-"No way I'm going to tell them all I've been trough they wouldn't understand it and they'd pity me and feel horribly guilty. I can see my mum weeping and Isabella flying into a rage"

- "But if they don't know. How are they going to know how to treat you? Besides you've changed what has happened to you has shaped who you are now. They will need to know the present you at some point or you plan on avoiding them forever?"

Now that he knew he was welcome he did want to go back to his mother's embrace to his dad's words of encouragement and to Isabella, the girl she had once liked. But she was now Queen and he didn't stand a chance, his mum had another baby to hug and he wasn't sure what to feel about his dad

-"No. I want to go back but they've changed. They didn't hover as much before"

- "They've changed? That's the pot calling the kettle black, they knew you as a gangly, mischievous teenager and they find you all grownup: taller with wide shoulders and a beard. With an attitude to match. They see you are jumpy and untrusting. Withdrawn. It must be confusing as hell to them. They don't know why you grew up so fast. Until they do and understand that their hovering makes you uncomfortable, you won't like it there"

-" But I had to change I didn't become like this because I wanted you yourself told me to do it, told me it was necessary."

- "I did and you did a remarkable job of becoming ruthless Conor Finn twenty-something year-old ex-soldier and head of the Battering Rams. You grew up fast and left your childhood behind. You have to realize your not Conor Finn. Part of him has become part of you but you're Conor Broekhart who was Conor Finn."

-"I've learned a lot being Conor Finn and frankly it was easier"

-"Easier? Maybe but you also thought you had no one in the world waiting for you. Tell me do you plan an leaving your parents and Isabella and fleeing to the States?"

- "NO! I wouldn't do that. I cant believe you thought I'd be so ungrateful!"

-"I didn't think you would do it even for one second, you see that's what family-less Conor Finn would have done"

-"So I have to revert to who I was before this nightmare happened? They would surely appreciate it"

- "You wouldn't be able to, even if you tried you'd only success in being more nervous"- Said Linus shaking his head- "You can't revert back to Finn either."

-"Then what?"

-"The key is moving forwards, not backwards, you have a design that worked badly, you introduce changes and it goes even worse but you don't go back to the first model you keep trying to make the changes work. That's the only way we grow. The answer is in neither of the two people you've already been it's in finding a third one, one that mixes the seriousness of Finn with the loving Conor Broekhart and become _Sir _Conor Broekhart, Airman, Hero of the Saltee Islands. You see Airman is a great part Conor Finn but Finn wouldn't have risked his life to protect the Queen."

Sensing he had given the boy a lot to think about Linus left the room quietly.

Conor didn't sleep that night. He spent it like he had spent that first few nights in jail so long ago, creating who he was going to be. He was smart enough to realize what was good from Finn and made an effort to include it in what he had left behind. He also realized that while organising his attitudes was a step in the right direction it wasn't nearly enough only time would heal the quirks he had acquired in jail. He was unlikely to enjoy being in large crowds anytime soon but he could fight to control the urge to flee.

When the sun rose he stretched his back and started his daily routine. The Rams had taught him how to keep fit in an enclosed space and even after escaping he had maintained his exercises. If you are in better shape than your enemies you have an advantage. He had missed his sword training so one of the first things he did when free had been to buy a new one, it had been expensive but it wasn't easy to find a well-balanced sword in the black market.

Uncle showed up just as he was finishing and was in awe of Conor's skill. He spent the full day begging for lessons which Conor denied. He had no business teaching him how to fight. The kid was sure that he could be more stubborn than Conor but he underestimated Airman. Conor had developed a very long patience while making plans in jail and the overexcited kid would never be a match.

Later that night Conor was much too preoccupied with trying to figure himself out to sleep so he lay in the roof awake. It was a stormy night and he could hear the waves crashing against the shore a lone figure cloaked in black walked the path up to the tower and Conor was on instant alert. He grabbed one of his muskets and readied himself to take down the stranger if needed.

It wasn't necessary, a gust of wind blew the hood off the stranger's face. In the moonlight Conor saw the glint of blond hair the tip of a regal nose. The man coming to the tower was none other than Declan Broekhart, his father.

AN: Slight cliffie! So... up next the emotional father-son talk and Conor trying to put his life back in order.


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